“I already paid you for the month.” I crossed my arms, hugging them against me. “I have nothing else to give you.”
“You’re a liar!” His lips were so wet; it looked like he’d dunked them in water.
“Dean!” my mother shouted. “I need a drink!”
“Shut up, Melanie! Shut your goddamn mouth!”
The shaking from their screams had already started. I needed it to stop until I got to my room.
“Dean,” my mother continued. “Dean!”
His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “I know you have money. Give it up.” He held out his hand and curled his fingers inward, like he was calling me over. His nails were far too long with dirt caked beneath them.
“Don’t you think if I had money, I’d be moving out?” I glanced down my body. “That I wouldn’t be wearing the same clothes every day? I don’t have anything. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”
“You have a mouth on you. Just like your fucking mother. At least I can shut hers up with rum. You? You just keep running it. All you ever say is no whenever I ask for something. You don’t appreciate what I do for you.” He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and set it on the ashtray. “You don’t appreciate how much I give you.” He took a long gulp of his beer. “You selfish fucking bitch.”
Fuck this.
And fuck him.
“I don’t have any money!” I took a step toward the hallway.
“You had money to go out with your friends.” He stood from the couch.
My skin was sweating, and it was freezing in here. My fingers were pinching my stomach, squeezing the skin. I wanted it to hurt.
I wanted anything but this.
I shook my head. “No?—”
“You have money to drive your fucking car and fill it with gas.”
“That doesn’t cost much?—”
“You have money to eat.” His eyes took a disgusting sweep of my body. “Filling those jeans out real nice, aren’t you, girlie?”
I felt sick to my stomach. “I’m going to bed.”
As I rushed toward the hallway, he sidestepped and blocked me, smiling as if I were handing him another drink. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I didn’t want to get too close to him, so I backed up a few paces, hoping I could settle him some and he would sit back down. “To my room.”
“But that’s my room! And this is my house!” He downed the rest of his beer and threw the can toward the wall beside him. I jumped as the metal crashed into drywall. “If you’re not going to give me what I ask for, then I’m taking matters into my own fucking hands.”
He walked toward me, and as he reached for my shoulder, I moved back. But he must have taken one extra step than me because he grabbed the strap of my purse.
“Let go!” I held the bottom of the bag with both hands.
“Give me that fucking purse!”
“No!” As I yanked my body away from his grip, the tension of him pulling caused the strap to break.
The momentum then proved to be too much, and the bag went flying from my hands. It flipped over in the air and emptied onto the floor.
“Fuck!” My arms reached out, and I fell to my knees to grasp my wallet.
He got to it first, lifting it and unsnapping the center. “Let’s see what’s in here.”
